


50 Possibilities

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Tags May Change, Trans Character, Trans Jack Pattillo, Trans Michael Jones, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-01-30 01:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21420178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: One Word Prompts for 50 Drabbles, various pairings in the  FAHC Universe. Tags, warnings and ratings are likely to change over the course of updates.
Relationships: Alfredo Diaz/Michael Jones, Alfredo Diaz/Ryan Haywood, Alfredo Diaz/Ryan Haywood/Michael Jones, Gavin Free/Lindsay Tuggey Jones/Michael Jones, Gavin Free/Lindsay Tuggey Jones/Michael Jones/Meg Turney, Gavin Free/Meg Turney, Gavin Free/Michael Jones, Jack Pattillo/Geoff Ramsey, Jeremy Dooley/Michael Jones, Jeremy Dooley/Ryan Haywood, Lindsay Tuggey Jones/Fiona Nova, Lindsay Tuggey Jones/Meg Turney, Lindsay Tuggey Jones/Michael Jones, Matt Bragg/Gavin Free, Ryan Haywood/Michael Jones, Trevor Collins/Alfredo Diaz
Comments: 7
Kudos: 32





	1. Drinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfredo has his own way of celebrating after a successful heist. [Trevor/Alfredo]

It was quieter from the rooftop of the penthouse, even the sirens of police cars down below were faint against the chilling, roaring wind. Alfredo liked it up here at night, with the little lights below like stars at his feet and the danger of being perched on the edge, feet swinging against the concrete and steel and the cold wind bracing against his skin with a near empty can beside him. Maybe a couple of cans, he'd long lost track how much he drank in his trance.

It was only when he heard someone call out to him that he was pulled out of his own head, casting his gaze from the street lights below in favour of giving Trevor his full attention as the man approached. 

"I hope you're not planning a swan dive off the top, it's hard to find a good sniper these days that Vagabond doesn't scare off." The man gave Alfredo his best smile, all white teeth in the dark that made him both dangerous and irresistibly charming. Trevor was something to behold but as far as Alfredo's booze-addled vision was concerned, Trevor was the most beautiful thing Alfredo had ever seen.

Raising his can, shaking it so the liquid sloshes about, "I'm just enjoying the sights, Trev, no swan diving for me!"

Alfredo rose to his feet, sway in his step that could make anyone nervous but with all the grace of someone with god's own luck, the man managed to jump off the ledge to meet Trevor halfway across the rooftop. With a slur and a smile, "You should join me."

Reaching outwards, Trevor tried to ground himself after the mild lurch in his stomach at seeing Alfredo sway on the ledge of their very high penthouse building. Passing it off as adjusting the way Alfredo's jacket sat on the other's body, pulling it straight, Trevor relished in the warmth Alfredo gave off even in the cold. 

"As long as we don't sit on the edge, I'll happily have a drink." He grinned back, the wisps of white curling from his mouth. "Though I think you're insane to want to drink out here in the cold instead of the penthouse."

Letting Alfredo lead him back to the edge, the latino passing a can from the large box crate he had perched atop the ledge. Up this close, Trevor could see the red flush on Alfredo's bronzed skin from the cold and the goosebumps that ran over the slither of arm he could see under the crimson red jacket. 

The two were the worst, they couldn't hide their feelings from each other under the guise of professionalism when liquid courage had Alfredo in its clutches, reaching out to rest a hand on Trevor's hand as he drank down the rest of his white claw. This only encouraged Trevor to catch up, downing the drink and crushing the can to toss over the side. Alfredo followed, his laugh battling the wind for dominance and it was the most beautiful thing Trevor had ever heard. 

This was the kind of night that made Alfredo feel _alive_; a fun dizziness that came with alcohol, Trevor close to his side in just a way he knew the other was just as warm as he felt and the city below like stars. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone and thank you for reading the first drabble!
> 
> I haven't written anything in four or five years but after being part of the reading aspect of AO3, I wanted to give writing a go!


	2. Risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Golden Boy doesn't have a weakness but Gavin Free does. [Gavin/Meg]

Golden Boy, what a title.

Everyone knew the golden boy had no cracks, he was pristine, glistening and perfect to a fault. His words were precise, calculated and with flair that the gold he wore could only hope to replicate. His loyalty was sealed with a golden collar, Ramsey's little pet. A prized possession. He had no regrets, he had no weaknesses, nothing came close to melting him down. 

That's what made him so valuable to the crew, he was unpredictable and charming in a way that had allies and enemies alike wanting to meet him. They wanted to know why he was the golden boy, why he was Ramsey's favourite and what made him tick. 

Time and time again, the golden boy had spat blood in the face of certain death and grinned with teeth pearly white with the exception of one, a golden tooth that matched his silver tongue. He wouldn't ever crack, he wouldn't melt under the heat of those who would wish his family harm. 

The golden boy was stronger than that, malleable where he needed to be and without fault. A precious metal that filled the cracks of his flawed crew members, making them whole. 

However, _ Gavin Free _ was not. 

When the shades came off in the dark of the night, nestled in his breast pocket and his chains were discarded; the golden boy retired and Gavin could breathe. 

As Gavin, he had many flaws. He was clingy to a fault, hanging off those he deemed the most important and biting nails whenever worry seeped into bones that had been broken more times than he cared to remember. He had nightmares, waking up in a cold sweat and his chest heaving. Gavin Free took risks that the Golden Boy wasn't supposed to.

Risks like falling in love but he couldn't take it back, wouldn't take it back. It was a risk for her to be with him, they both knew it but when she ran her perfectly manicured nails through his hair and trailed the faded scars hidden under his clothes, Gavin fell deeper and deeper.

His precious little doll, Meg was always at risk with him but it was a risk he was willing to take if it meant he'd feel her skin against his own, hear her laugh at one of his terrible jokes, see her curled into his side at the break of dawn.

She was worth all the risks; he could only hope he was worth it too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy another drabble, nothing is more refreshing than writing for an existing fandom! I appreciate any kudos and any comments!


	3. Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin turns out to be the exception to the rules. [Matt/Gavin]

There were rules and regulations for every job, boundaries and limitations for every person; Matt Bragg, the Fakes’ resident hacker, had a tight-knit set of boundaries and rules. These rules he established as vague as they were, everybody knew about them and for the most part, everybody respected them. In fact, the crew had jokingly gotten him a framed print of the rules that he hung just above his ever-growing desk, it was probably the cleanest thing in his entire apartment.  These rules were set out to provide Matt the perfect environment for his craft, fine tuned just to his liking. They were very simple rules, easy to follow rules and yet, he always found that  _ everyone _ would find a way to break those rules. 

The first rule was the easiest rule of all; during a job, a heist, a stakeout - anything - the communications channel was for business only. It was fine if the others wanted to piss about and joke with one another but if Matt messed up, he could endanger one of his crew members and the weight of that was enough to force Matt to deal with the onslaught of bullshit he got for a rule the crew found stupid.

The second rule  _ should _ be simple - in theory; don’t come to his apartment in no uncertain circumstances. He hadn’t even shared his address with the crew, it was his private place where he could get away and do the work from home but  _ no _ , it couldn’t be that easy. The amount of times he’d found pranked parcels coming from the likes of the Lads or how he’d often find fresh groceries in his fridge from Jack or that his apartment and desk had been cleaned because Trevor just can’t help himself. 

And the final rule? 

Don’t  _ assume _ it’s okay to invade his personal space. Invading the channels he manages or invading his house was something he grumbled and complained about often but he’d grown used to it but the rule about personal space, well, that was one he had been adamant about. The only exception to the rule was the girls, as he daren’t say no to the likes of Lindsay and he didn’t mind so much when it came to Jack or Fiona. 

Everyone else was somewhat respectful, as Michael would often just punch him in the arm enough to bruise it and Jeremy would wait until Matt gave him the go ahead. Geoff would give a subtle nod, using his words while Ryan often just  _ said nothing _ . 

It wasn’t that he disliked affection or anything, it was just a personal choice. Apparently personal choice meant nothing though, not where Gavin Free was concerned because he was determined to make Matt’s life absolute chaos.

_ Gavin _ had no tact, no respect and no time for Matt's rules. 

* * *

Matt could pinpoint the first time that Gavin had pushed his buttons. It was meant to be an easy stake-out with Gavin and Jeremy in the car across from a little grocery store that had a lot of people coming in and out with nobody buying  _ anything _ . Matt monitored the cameras on the streets that got the best angles of people going in and out of the front and the back door to a small parking lot. They were certain it was a front for a drug operation, one that was costing  _ them _ money. 

It had been professional enough if you didn’t count the bickering over music between Jeremy and Gavin as well as the consistent stream of how bored they were just waiting around. Matt had tried to reason that this was important, that Geoff wanted to know without making a scene this time. Not when the crew was scattered doing numerous jobs all over Los Santos - it wouldn’t be the most ideal time to bust into a potential front with no evidence and no nearby backup. 

So it caught Matt off guard when Gavin’s voice came through with his question; “Hey, Matt - do you ever catch anything kinky on the cameras you hack? Oh! Have you ever jerked off to it?”

That had Jeremy in stitches, even more so when Matt had done a spit-take of his coffee. Matt had never felt his face go so warm and if he checked, he was sure it’d be bright red. Turning his earpiece off, Matt took a moment to collect himself and get a paper towel or two to try and soak up the coffee from his keyboard - he was going to make Gavin buy him a new one for that. 

When he finally got back on the comms, Jeremy had to make it  _ so _ much worse; “Matt, you’re back buddy! Gavin didn’t get you all hot and bothered, did he?” 

“Fuck off.” He grumbled in response, training his eyes to the other cameras rather than the one that overlooked the sleek black car that was sheltering Jeremy and Gavin from the rain. “Why would you even ask that now?”

That earned a snicker from Gavin, Jeremy chuckling in the background. The Brit hummed lightly as he thought about his response before letting his lips make a rather audible  _ pop _ sound.

“Maybe I’m curious,  _ Matthew _ .” That sent a shiver up Matt’s spine, he didn’t like when people called him Matthew but it sounded so  _ strange _ when Gavin said it, the emphasis on each syllable rolling off his tongue in that accent. 

Pushing the thought to the back of his mind, “The comms channel isn’t for your dumb questions, Gavin. Eyes on the job.”

* * *

He’d like to think the whole comms incident would have gotten him used to Gavin randomly throwing questions at him, he’d grown used to dumb scenarios and moonballs flying at him from out of nowhere whenever he had made the trek up to the penthouse.  Now what he didn’t expect was to arrive at his apartment to find the living room light on. He was certain he’d turned them off when he left so he could feel the anxiety creeping upon him, it was late so it couldn’t be Jack or Trevor and Jeremy or Fiona would have called ahead of time if they wanted to come over.

Scrambling for the gun in his bag, he’d be stupid not to carry a firearm in this city whether he was a Fake or not and nudging the door open slow and steady to make sure it made no noise. There didn’t seem to be any indication his apartment had been ransacked or robbed as he stepped inside and made a quick look around but that didn’t ease his anxiety.

It was only when he heard that familiar squawk as Gavin came scrambling to meet him in the hall, only to come face to face with Matt’s firearm, that Matt had relaxed enough to frown and put the gun down on the nearby table where he usually threw his keys. “Gavin, what the hell are you doing in my apartment?”

“Why are you pointing a gun at me, Matt?!” Gavin squawked back, gesturing with his arm wildly as the other one was holding a bowl full of mixed sweets. Matt had only noticed them because they were a mixture of his favourites and leaning just ever so slightly, could he see donuts? Were those the little powdered ones from that little bakery down the road from their last heist?

Oh, yeah. The gun. Gavin Free was in his house.

“You’re in my apartment,” Matt said rather bluntly, frowning as he went to pull his coat off. “I wasn’t expecting you or anyone for that matter…”

The Brit looked sheepishly down at the bowl in his hand and extended it outwards, “The lads mentioned you were having a rough time with the new coding; thought I’d cheer you up, love. Give you a break, maybe help you out later.” 

“...I’d like that.”

Matt wouldn’t admit that he enjoyed Gavin’s company, that he grew flustered waking up with the Brit curled up against him at 4 AM and he would absolutely not admit to taking Gavin to a late lunch the next morning as a thank you after the two worked closely together.

* * *

The third rule.

That was the one rule Gavin couldn’t break, surely. Okay so there was the night where the two ended up snoozing together, lounged out on Matt’s couch but that was an accident. He wasn’t about to let it slide again  s o why the hell was Matt pacing the halls of the Fakes’ penthouse outside of Gavin’s room while Steffie was patching him up? It was just a few stitches, she said, that he’d be fine and he got off lucky. 

Yet here Matt was, pacing around the penthouse like a kicked dog with the entire crew checking on him every so often as if he was the one who got injured. It was only when Steffie came out, reassuring everyone Gavin was fine and that he wasn’t to do anything strenuous that may pull the stitches out, no matter how much Gavin may claim he was ready to be up and about.

Jeremy came and patted Matt on the back, “You should go in first.” 

That caused the hacker to backtrack, double-taking at his best friend, “What? Why me? Shouldn’t it be Geoff or Michael?”

Over at the kitchen counter, Geoff was leaning over a book with that tale-telling laugh of his. As if the older gent knew something that Matt didn’t but by the looks of everyone in the penthouse, they all knew something Matt didn’t.

“Matt, dude, we all  _ know _ .” Jeremy gave a smile with a raised eyebrow, “Wait, are you telling me you didn’t know?”

That’s when it hit Matt like a freight train. Oh god, he was in love with Gavin. All the taunting banter, the growing amount of late nights Gavin stayed crashing on his couch or with Matt staying at the penthouse. How endearing Gavin’s little quirks and nonsensical questions had become. 

“Oh shit… I’m in love with Gavin Free...”

There were sighs, muttering and shaking of heads but Matt had drowned it all out. He was running on autopilot now or maybe his brain was shutting down entirely, he’d never been with someone like Gavin, never  _ liked _ anyone like Gavin before but it made sense to him now and the crushing feeling of having potentially lost him is what it took to realise it?

Definitely on autopilot. Totally sane Matt Bragg would not be bursting into Gavin’s room, barely giving the Brit a second to get a word out or sit upright before he pulled the man into a desperate kiss, cupping his face with both hands. He’d be amused by how weird it felt, the scratch of their beards together but that wasn’t important right now. 

What was important was Gavin right here, right now; safe and sound, kissing him back and grasping at his hoodie sleeves as if Matt would disappear if he let go. 

Finally breaking away, Matt rested his forehead against Gavin’s own, “Your nose was getting in the way.”

“You spoiled the moment, you prick!” Gavin couldn’t hide the cheeky grin on his face, the laugh on the end of his lips. “Besides, don’t you have a rule against personal space and affection?”

“Guess you’re an exception to the rules, Gavin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been ill with the norovirus for three or four days, I've lost track but god, it's been awful. I tried to finish up this drabble, though it probably got a little sloppy and it was longer than I expected but it's all just room for improvement, right?


	4. Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan waits for his annual call. [Ryan/Ray]

It made him nervous every year, a jittery sort of nervous that came with speeding away from the cops or jumping from the tallest building in the city with only a parachute strapped to your back. It wasn’t as if he had a reason to be nervous, maybe it was just old emotions stirring and rearing their ugly head at the sound of that familiar voice, the tired sounding laughter that would be at the other end.  Ryan had probably been playing absent-mindedly with the burner phone all day, turning it around in his hands and flipping it open and closed. It had driven the crew crazy as it did every year, Geoff snapping at him with his high pitched shrieks and Michael kicking off about how  _ ‘fucking annoying it is’ _ as he always did. Even Jeremy’s curiosity had waned over the years, a look he couldn’t quite place set on the short man’s face.

This wasn’t about the Fakes; this was about  _ them _ .

So he waited and waited _and_ waited for the phone in his hands to ring. He’d almost fallen asleep, the comforts of his mattress trying to lure him into a deep sleep until the buzzer went off, alerting the mad mercenary from his stupor to frantically fiddle with the phone, pulling it open and answering the unknown number with haste.

_ “Did nobody tell you to leave it a few rings so you don’t seem desperate?” _

There was that voice Ryan looked forward to hearing every year, god, it had been  _ far _ too long since he heard from Ray. It was a stupid, hopeful thing that one day the man would come back to the Fakes but every time he got this call, he still found himself wishing for that day.

“You missed me, admit it.” Ryan smiled as he spoke, he couldn’t help it. “How is it wherever you are?”

He liked to imagine Ray in a nice apartment, somewhere warm but not too hot that he wouldn’t be able to wear his signature hoodie. Ryan wondered if Ray still wore his purple hoodie that he used to wear near every day, enough that the Hispanic would have ten of the  _ exact same _ hoodie in his wardrobe when he lived here in the penthouse. 

“It’s quaint, I guess. Dude, I don’t really leave the house unless I have to, I’m still an introverted loser no matter where I am, so what does it matter?” Ray let out a huff of air that was almost a laugh on the other end of the line. “Enough about me though, how is everyone else?”

Ryan chose not to point out that Ray never talked about himself, never letting Ryan budge him even an inch, ever vigilant about keeping his guard up and so, he let Ray keep it that way. He gave him the information that he wanted; that Lindsay had somehow convinced Michael to get two cats for their own place; that Gavin and Meg had been hanging around Matt Bragg  _ a lot _ recently; that Geoff and Jack would  _ finally _ be tying the knot soon - they were thinking a wedding out in international waters; that their boss Trevor was close to killing them all, if not for Alfredo’s interventions; that Jeremy and himself had been engaging in a lot of shenanigans together recently as Battle Buddies.

“Aw, is Battle Buddies replacing the R&R connection?”

That made Ryan shuffle to sit upright, uncertain how he felt about that idea now because he liked Jeremy, the guy was a good partner to work alongside and he was funny but Ray was  _ Ray _ , you can’t just replace years of what they had. That’s why he clung to these calls, a remnant of what once was. 

“ _ Never _ .” 

That had Ray laughing again, it was almost pitying and that had Ryan curling into himself with the phone pressed harshly against his ear; “Here I was thinking I’d come out for  _ your _ wedding if that was the case, you never know, I may come and hang out again one day.”

Ryan felt his body sag because as much as he wished it, oh, how he wished for a day where the elevator opened up and he’d see Ray standing there as if nothing had changed but it would never happen. Ray was long gone, what they had was finished and it hurt him so much;  “ _ You’re such a liar, Ray. _ ”


	5. Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfredo can tell a lot from someone by their hands. [Alfredo/Ryan]

The first thing he noticed with the ink dotted about his hands, intricacy in simplicity. The large tattoos stretching across the fair skin, the small symbols that ran across his knuckles like a coded message. 

His hands were surprisingly soft to the touch, the skin tight and the handshake was firm yet welcoming to match the man's small, lazy smile. Alfredo hadn't expected a warm welcome from the Kingpin, he wasn't expecting much of a welcome at all but here he was, shaking hands with the man himself as if this wasn't a welcome into Los Santos' most fearsome crime family. 

Geoff's hands were made for making deals, turning the pages of heavy books by the fireplace and reaching out to others. They were the hands of a weary leader who had grown soft over the years, someone ready to let another take the reins. 

Alfredo could rely on a man like that, with hands like that. 

-

Jack's hands were the opposite of Geoff's own, they were soft to look at and they brought great comfort to everyone within the group but the first time Alfredo brushes his fingers against them while passing the redhead a wrench, he realises they're rough at the edges. 

He wondered if it was from years of gripping steering wheels of cars in high speed chases, an iron clad grip as if it would meld her with the car and give her full control of the hunt. Predator leading predator, the act of playing bait to lure the pigs into their traps. 

Maybe it was from handling tools so frequently, her time spent alone in the garages they owned tweaking and perfecting every part of a vehicle. Maybe it was from experiences he had yet to draw out of the beautiful yet deadly woman, a past that she kept hidden in old photographs of a time she'd rather forget - of a person she never was.

Those hands, as rough around the tips as they were, they were hands for holding crew members late at night or making breakfast at the crack of drawn. They were hands that would maul anyone who touched the family she had made for herself here. 

Alfredo felt safe, knowing that. 

-

Gavin's hands were cold to the touch, enough so that Alfredo had almost retracted back. It was ridiculously hot here in Los Santos and yet, the golden boy had ice running through his veins. 

Even colder yet was the heavy rings that adorned his hands. All glitz and glamour, something Alfredo could appreciate it in all of its gaudy extravagance. It was almost laughable how much one could feel compulsed to mug the man for all his gold when standing in his presence but he supposed that was the point of the golden boy, to shine and stand out amongst everyone else. 

The man's hands weren't just all for show though. Alfredo had seen them in action, fingers dancing along the keys of a keyboard in the sure-fire win against whatever system they were cracking. They were meant for hacking, the way they stretched and glided as if it was nothing. 

They were affectionate hands too, ones Alfredo would find wrapped around him in a hug or patting him on the back. They were constantly touching the crew in the most casual manner, affection at any given opportunity. 

Alfredo could get used to that, the casual touches between family and friends. 

-

Michael's hands were thick skinned, calluses rough as they played with the lighter in his hand to keep the urge to destroy at bay. More often than not, Alfredo found Michael had that lighter flickering on and off in those rough hands. 

One night, Michael had shown Alfredo how he could hold his hand in the flame of his zippo without flinching, the skin toughened that even fire was an old familiar friend. It was fitting and Alfredo laughed that night, trying it himself once or twice only to suck on the ends of his fingers where he had burnt himself. 

The thick skin must have captured the warmth of every flame, every ember, every explosion that Michael sparked to life though because Alfredo found out how warm they were when he had to pry them from the throat of a man who had backstabbed them. They needed the guy alive and if Michael kept him in his grip, Alfredo wasn't sure if he'd choke him or burn him with a hold that fierce and burning. 

They weren't just hands for harming destruction though, not as Alfredo had first suspected. They wrapped up Gavin's injuries with meticulous care, cleaned up blood and glass from a brawl that broke out between Jeremy and himself over something stupid and even though he wouldn't openly admit it, Alfredo knew Michael took care of the house down to every single detail when nobody was looking. 

They were caring hands, ones that could remember the details in every wire; every crack; every cut that it came across. They were careful hands. 

Alfredo could admire that, a man with hands careful to his craft. 

-

Purples, blue and greens blossomed across knuckles. The colours clashed with the beads of red, though Alfredo wasn't sure who's blood was who's at the end of it all. 

It wasn't the first nor would it be the last time that Jeremy's hands were caked in blood and painted with bruises. It wouldn't be the first time they were wrapped up in bandages and gauze to protect the shorter man from himself. 

Jeremy's hands were the hands of a brawler, no matter how capable with a gun he might be. They were hands that curled up, tensing with every little frustration and hands that choked out men and bottle necks alike. They were the hands of a brute, a beast rattling the bars of a cage waiting to rip through anyone and anything that gave it cause. 

Alfredo had been on the end of those bruised knuckles once. It had been a heist that hadn't gone to plan in all the worst ways, people had gotten injured and separated and there was so much worry, so much rage and tension building up in the other that Alfredo's attempts to calm him down earned him a right hook in the face.

Jeremy still claims that Alfredo deserved it, he doesn't see it. That punch had really hurt. 

When they weren't covered in bruises and cuts though, they were covered in flour and icing. Jeremy, for the hardened criminal he was, often found himself in the kitchen baking to redirect his stress and if it was deep in dough, he was petting stray cats out in the nearby alleyways of downtown Los Santos, much to everyone's amusements. 

They were passionate hands, ones that spoke for Jeremy and they were honest. Alfredo could live with honesty and passion, just so long as Jeremy didn't punch him again  _ for the love of God. _

-

That left the Vagabond; the mad mercenary; the Reaper of Los Santos. 

Alfredo was absolutely  _ terrified _ of the man. He would lurk in doorways, sit in such silence that everyone would have to strain to hear the man breathe and he would never speak a word. 

These were hands that were littered in pale streaks, scars painting the fair skin of his hand a milky white crosshatch and on his left hand, there was the  _ missing finger _ . Alfredo was both terrified of those hands and curious, found himself drawn to watching Ryan play with his knives or clean his guns with an expertise that should make Alfredo run for the hills. 

Ryan's hands would often be used to draw a gun out of someone, pull out a knife in murderous glee or if Geoff really felt cruel, they were used to rip the information from someone piece by piece. They were the hands of an executioner, that's all Alfredo saw for the longest time. Hands covered in someone else's blood, the stump of a finger that twitched as if it should be moving with the others, the nails that never seemed to come clean even when Ryan washed them so often. 

They were the hands of a dangerous man and Alfredo was drawn in by those hands.

They moved so fluidly, as if they were made of water rather than bone, blood and muscle. There was so much to how they worked, how they pulled things apart or how they put them together. How damaged they were yet never frail. 

_ Fuck, I want him to touch me. _

So it wasn't where Alfredo was hoping his observations would go. There was always small things he'd notice about everyone but this was going beyond observations, this was full daydream mode. He spent hours working himself, picturing scarred hands running along his skin; pressing harsh into his hips enough to leave bruises; gripping him and jerking him in a way that was slow like how Ryan cleaned the barrel of his gun. Those hands would haunt his waking dreams, those hands he wanted to feel in his own. 

It took months of building up to be able to feel them for himself. They were soft where the scarring was and Alfredo admired how his skin looked almost translucent in this light as the Vagabond wrapped up the wound in Alfredo's own hand, an unfortunate run in with a knife through the back of the hand. He'd be lucky if it didn't affect his sniping but it didn't hit anything major so he counted his blessings. 

The touch was surprisingly gentle as well, it had a dark red flush creep up Alfredo's neck all the way to his ears as Ryan turned his hand over a few times in his own to inspect the bandaging. It became routine for the next few days for Ryan to do the first aid for his hand, cleaning and dressing the wound to make sure it healed properly. 

When the bandages had to come off, Alfredo found himself grabbing for Ryan's hand when it was evident that this would be the last time they would do this if Alfredo stayed quiet. 

Blurting out quickly, Alfredo couldn't stop the words even if he wanted to. He didn't, he needed Ryan to know; "I like holding your hand." 

There was a look of surprise in those ice blue eyes and then an air of laughter, though no sound escaped. Pulling his hand from Alfredo's own, it became clear to the other why Ryan never spoke. 

Slow and careful, Ryan signed  _ "I like holding yours too, Alfredo." _

Alfredo had no idea what Ryan was saying but from how Ryan placed his hands around Alfredo's own afterwards, he could take a guess that it was positive. He'd be picking up on sign language as soon as possible. He wanted to speak with Ryan, he wanted to understand him in his entirety.

He wanted to see Ryan's hands in motion. 


	6. Gathering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt, Trevor and Jeremy have a special meet up just the three of them to pine and complain about their crushes. [Gavin/Matt, Trevor/Alfredo, Jeremy/Ryan]

Celebrations weren’t uncommon in the Fakes, whether it was for a crew member’s birthday or pulling off a heist without any major blunders. These _ little _ celebrations normally consisted of cartons and boxes of takeaway that would only be cleared away by the likes of Michael two days _ after _ the party, enough alcohol to kill a man twice over and video games that broke out into competitive screaming and laughter. 

These types of parties weren’t usually Matt’s scene, he was only here because today was the celebration of Jeremy’s first time as a main crew member and if he didn’t show up, he’d feel like a real shit friend. It’s easier to focus on the liquor in his plastic cup - _ (remembering all too well how glasses were banned during celebrations at the penthouse, a rowdy set of three come to mind as the reason to why that rule was set in place) _ \- and drown out the noise with his own thoughts, processing all the work he has waiting back at his own apartment or maybe he could be playing around on one of his games that he hadn’t touched in a while.

It’s only when he feels arms snake around his neck, a warm body pressed against his side, that Matt comes back to the real world rather than the world of crunching numbers and decoding. He’s greeted with Gavin clinging to him, face flushed with a dusting of pink across sunkissed skin from all the alcohol he’s had and that’s enough to have Matt’s own face grow heated because Gavin is so close.

“_ Matt_, what you doing over here? Why aren’t you hanging out with everyone else?” Gavin presses for answers, drawing out the vowels with a high pitch whine as he swings against Matt. It was clear Gavin was drunk, enough so that it took the efforts of Ryan and Michael together to free Matt from the other’s clutches, leading Gavin away who protested.

_(“I just wanted to get lovely Matt to join in the fun!”_ _Gavin leaned against Michael as he complained.)_

The whole scene had Matt flustered, he’d been harbouring a crush on Gavin for a time but this was the _ Golden Boy _ with charm, charisma and good looks that made him way out of Matt’s league, not to mention all the other things Matt liked about him. It was hard to forget the pathetic crush he was trying to move on from when Gavin clung to him or basically existed too close in Matt’s personal space. He was too loud, too bright to just be ignored. 

He was grateful that he wasn’t the only one suffering with pining crush syndrome, Matt’s eyes casting over to observe Jeremy. It was almost relieving to find he wasn’t the only one that looked like a complete idiot over someone because there would always be Jeremy; wild, impulsive and passionate Jeremy who was trying to impress Ryan with his feats of strength in _ arm wrestling _ of all things, challenging the mercenary himself with taunts that were borderline sexual innuendos. 

If anything made Matt’s night, it was watching Jeremy lose because Ryan decided to tease him back. That had Matt laughing the entire way to the elevator, Jeremy grumbling and pouting as he had offered to walk Matt downstairs and wait for his uber with him.

"It’s not that funny, Matt.” Jeremy huffed, exhaling through his nose as he took out his aggression on the ground floor button. Matt just grinned wider at his friend, giving a shrug in response.

“Looked pretty damn funny from where I was standing.” There was a light punch in the arm in response before a comfortable silence fell over the two, the feeling of the elevator going down making Matt’s stomach lurch for a few seconds. He glanced over at Jeremy, taking note how the other was messing subconsciously with the clasp of his gloves, click-clacking them undone and back on again. It was obvious that Jeremy had something, _ someone _, on his mind.

“Jeremy, do you… do you _ like _ Ryan?” Matt inquired carefully. He knew Jeremy had a lot of admiration for the Vagabond, knew they got along like a house on fire but he wasn’t sure anymore if this was just childish infatuation with how much it seemed to set Jeremy on edge. 

The question pushed Jeremy that much closer to the edge, a momentary look of panic as he began to backpedal defensively; “What? _ No _ , I don’t-- don’t be fucking stupid, Matt, we work in the same crew and I mean--” it was clear that Jeremy felt strongly if he was getting this defensive and inevitably, he fought back when he felt backed into a corner. “Well, what about you? You _ like _ Gavin!”

It was meant to be accusatory, a way to lash out without confronting the original question and in all honesty, if Matt hadn’t grown weary and exhausted of pretending he wasn’t head over heels for Gavin, he may have dropped it entirely.

“Yeah, I do.” 

There was a beat, silence creating a new type of tension between Matt and Jeremy as the brunette found himself unable to come up with anything else to say in response. Jeremy ended up letting out a simple _ “Oh.” _

Matt could laugh at the two of them, “Yeah, _ oh. _” 

He wouldn’t.

* * *

Jeremy and Matt couldn’t tell you when it became the norm for the two to spend their video game nights together complaining about their crushes. It became Pining Losers Anonymous at this point, filled with snacks that had far too many calories and enough booze for them to turn the whole thing into a drinking game. 

Take a shot every time Matt brought up how Gavin was ridiculously charming or how annoyingly endearing he was everytime he called him _ Matthew _ in that stupid accent. Take a shot every time Jeremy gushed over Ryan’s blue eyes or how the mercenary looked unbearably attractive whenever he let his hair down while wandering the penthouse. 

They’d probably kill one another with alcohol poisoning, another one for the terrible idea pile. 

“How can someone be so fucking hot and adorable all in one go?” Jeremy whined, sinking further into the sofa as he cradled his glass. “He found out about my pal--”

Matt piped up, “You mean the stray cat you feed that Geoff tells you _ not _ to feed?”

“Technicalities, Matt but yes, that one. He was so good with him and I could have just kissed him right there and he made this stupid comment about us being secret dads to the cat, I’m losing my mind, Matt!” 

Matt chose to stuff his mouth with chips while Jeremy continued his rant about Ryan and their new adopted cat son, his short friend close to combusting from how badly he’d gotten it for Ryan. It went from small admiration to full blown infatuation, poor Jeremy.

Not that he was much better in their little gathering to bitch about their crushes like school girls, given that he wasn’t over Gavin yet. Jeremy eventually brought it up, tipping his glass in Matt’s direction as he asked how that was going - not that it was going _ anywhere _.

Matt mumbled just loud enough for Jeremy to hear, “He’s still an idiot, I still like him way too much to be legally sane and I absolutely spend way too much time thinking about blowing him than working on this big job I’ve been forced to do with him.” 

“God, we both fucking suck.” That earned a snort of laughter from Matt that eventually got them both in hysterics. It was true, they were both awful at this whole crush thing - luckily, friends that suck together, get fucked over together. 

* * *

The gathering of losers only gets more interesting a few months later when Alfredo joins the team, a young sniper with a keen eye like a hawk and a cute face that seemed far too innocent for one of the best shots in all of Los Santos. He’d spent his trial period for the Fakes bodyguarding Trevor when they were investigating a leak in the LSPD, one of the cops on their payroll and there was a worry that Trevor’s sharp silver tongue wouldn’t be enough to prevent him from getting discovered.

It only came to Jeremy’s attention when Trevor would purposefully keep Alfredo by his side for _ professional _ reasons during heists that involved the two of them, how Trevor’s eyes wandered down the length of the other’s body whenever Alfredo made jokes about his rather good-looking appearance in a vein of vanity that rivalled Gavin’s own and so, Jeremy brought it up with Matt.

“I think Trevor wants Alfredo to snipe something other than targets, if you catch my drift.” He’d brought it up on a stakeout, figuring Trevor may need someone to talk to, just like how Jeremy and Matt had each other. It couldn’t hurt to consider it.

Matt looked up from his laptop barely, eyes peering over the frame of his glasses, “That is the worst metaphor you’ve ever come up with.” It was said with the most deadpan tone of voice and blank expression that he could muster to really drive home how terrible it was to hear that. 

“I could have said he wants to eat Alfredo’s ass like he was a starving man at a Thanksgiving buffet?” Jeremy offered, grinning when Matt grimaced at the very imagery. “That’s not the point, I was thinking we could bring Trevor into the fold. He hangs out with us enough, don’t see why he should have to suffer alone.” 

Matt was starting to wonder how this happened, this little gathering just to talk about men they hadn’t dare tried to claim for themselves. 

“Sure, bring him in but he has to buy his own food and shit. I’m not sharing.” 

* * *

Gavin was unavailable at the time, so everyone’s heads turned to Alfredo for the mission of getting a target alone. It wasn’t ideal for Trevor, not when he had begun harbouring feelings for the sniper yet there was no-one else that could charm their way to the target with relative ease. Not when Gavin was busy with a separate errand elsewhere and the target was strictly attracted to men, leaving Fiona and Lindsay out of the loop. 

So here Trevor was, sitting with Jeremy and nursing drinks in a booth where they could see the target running his hand up Alfredo’s leg and whispering flirtations into his ear, no doubt something filthy that Trevor would have found funny if it was anyone else but this is Alfredo of all people, he just couldn’t keep the green-eyed beast at bay where the sniper was concerned. Almost tempted to borrow one of Ryan’s knives, Trevor wanted to stab the guy right through the hand that was creeping far too high up Alfredo’s thigh.

He couldn’t help being obvious though, the tight grip of his drink and the frown deep set on his face that caught even Jeremy’s attention.

“Here I thought me and Matt were bad but oh boy, Treyco, you’re a mess.” Jeremy taunted, though the short man gave a sympathetic smile at Trevor when he finally looked Jeremy’s way. 

“What do you mean? You and Matt what?” Maybe he should be engaging in conversation instead of focusing on what Alfredo was or wasn’t doing. It wasn’t good for his blood pressure. “Do you and Matt like Alfredo?”

That was enough to have Jeremy in hysterics, wheezing at the very thought that it made Trevor mildly self-conscious in his lapse of judgement because it clearly _ wasn’t _that then. 

“Oh god no, Trev.” Jeremy shook his head, taking pauses to get out more fits of laughter at Trevor’s expense. “Don’t get me wrong, Alfredo’s cute and all but I’m not into him. He’d be more Matt’s type but Matt likes them more _ british _ and I like mine tall, dark and scary.” 

Well, that was a relief he supposed but that didn’t quite make him feel much better about being caught out at a time like this. 

“Why are you telling me this? You and Matt that interested in my sex life now or something because that’s weird dude.” Trevor tried to joke, though he had to admit his sex life had dried up in the last few months. He couldn’t be as nonchalant as Alfredo and just find some woman or man to spend a night with from off the streets, it just wasn’t his style.

“Not particularly but it feels better to talk about sometimes, me and Matt have been doing it for over a year now. He talks about Gavin, I talk about Ryan and if you were interested in hanging out with the pining losers club, you could complain about The Sauce over there.” Jeremy gestured over at where Alfredo was now leading the target out the back, knowing full well that would capture Trevor’s attention in the worst possible way.

Turning communications back on, Trevor was quick to give the order to retrieve the target before ripping the earpiece out and standing up to follow Alfredo out but not before looking down at Jeremy, “Sounds like a fun night. I’ll swing by next time, we can think of it as team building.”

That’s how the fortnightly meet-ups and hang outs went from a duo to a trio. 

* * *

Nobody was expecting anyone to make a move, the pining forever continuing with long and drawn out excuses as Matt watches Gavin go through his fair share of boyfriends and girlfriends or Trevor feeling unable to risk his professionalism as the boss to pursue Alfredo. 

It ends up being Jeremy who gets frustrated with keeping his feelings to himself and breaks the cycle with the full support of Trevor and Matt pushing him through with the plan.

The plan doesn't work out _ exactly _ but the end result is better than Jeremy could have hoped. 

He'd gone and driven to the top of Mt. Chiliad with Ryan and shared a joint as they watched the sunrise in the early hours. It was stupid and romantic, cliche almost but Jeremy had being relaxed enough from the high to spill his feelings. There was a _ lot _ of feelings Jeremy had to share. 

It took Ryan dragging him by his lapels of his purple blazer into a bruising, hungry kiss to shut him up. Ramblings that neither we're sure who was talking about how long they'd waited for this moment, how they wasted so much time just circling around the tension, worries and insecurities getting in the way of what they both wanted. 

Trevor and Matt couldn't have been happier for Jeremy, even if they had to listen to Jeremy's new point of discussion; sharing way too much information about his newfound favourite _ parts _ of Ryan. 

Still, they were happy for him. Even if it meant now that Jeremy took it upon himself to encourage them to follow in his footsteps. 

* * *

It took Trevor a good five weeks after Jeremy and Ryan got together to find his own reason for stepping to the plate. 

It had been a run in with a rival gang, gunfire flying everywhere and Alfredo had just been terribly unlucky to have been caught in the crossfire when trying to move to a better vantage point but just lucky enough to survive under the care of Sarah and Steffie's meticulous medical care. 

Trevor had been pacing the halls when Alfredo was first in the small safehouse that acted as Sarah and Steffie's base of operations, enough that he'd managed to get bags under his eyes from the poor sleep he got whenever he managed to drift into slumber on the uncomfortable plastic chairs strewn about the place. 

He knew Alfredo was alright, he had to be because there was so much Trevor wanted- _ needed _ to say to him now. He couldn't lose Alfredo this way without telling him how he felt, it'd destroy him. 

So that's what Trevor did as soon as he was given the go ahead to see Alfredo. Stupidly wrapping his arms around the recovering patient and squeezing far too tight until he was told to let go, tears welling up in his eyes because Alfredo was here and alive and God, he loved him so much. 

After Alfredo was allowed to return back to his place in the penthouse, it was near impossible not to find Trevor beside him. Whether it be walking in on something outright inappropriate for a largely populated building or just the linking of their fingers at heist meetings, the two had become inseparable. 

It made the twin jokes so much worse, Jeremy had pointed out and Trevor wasn't amused that Matt had found it so funny. 

* * *

That left Matt with all the pressure to confess to Gavin on him now. He was starting to hate the fact that they made this stupid group now because he couldn't back out over a year and a half in the making. The only solace he got was when the planning for New Year's came around. 

It was one of the bigger events that Jack insisted they celebrate as a group and so, Matt couldn't avoid it. Even if he would rather be at home with his cat and some horrible movie than watching Jeremy and Trevor be grossly adorable with their significant others, at least he got free food out of the ordeal. 

The air was stifling and the penthouse was busy though, it's how he found himself on the rooftop looking out over the cityscape below. The empire that they ruled, the city the Fakes had in the palm of their hands. It was truly something from this high up, Matt noted.

"It's a nice view." A voice from behind caught Matt's attention, the same one that had his heart beating faster than should be considered healthy in anyone. 

Gavin stood beside Matt, leaning on the edge as he bumped gently against the other, "Not enjoying the party, love?"

"Oh, yeah." Matt tried to suppress the smile at the dumb pet name. "I just wanted to get some fresh air, nice view like you said."

There was a silence before very quiet, barely above a whisper, Matt was swore he heard Gavin say "I wasn't talking about the city, Matthew."

That's how Matt ended up not confessing like Trevor or Jeremy had done. He didn't need to say anything because Gavin was able to talk for the both of them, hands entwining as they looked over the lights below and the loud yelling of the party below was nothing but dead air.

The group gatherings never stopped, they only ended up getting better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone has any words they want to throw at me for future prompts, I'd love to hear them! 
> 
> Thanks for comments and kudos, they are real motivators!


	7. Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't a guilty secret for anyone but herself. [Michael/Lindsay, Lindsay/Fiona implied]

It was never easy to admit growing up, it wasn't something Lindsay had ever found herself able to say aloud. It only got worse when she met Michael; aggressive, fierce, gentle, caring Michael. 

She loved him from his dark curly hair to the constellations of freckles that adorned his skin. The way he would scream and yell himself hoarse over the stupidest things, only to find himself slumping against her when the rage dissipated and he was left running low. 

He was wildfire, raging and destroying indiscriminately and she knew she wanted him as soon as they crossed paths. She would tame the fire and walk through the flames that licked at her skin and scorched her very bones black and she would live because if Michael was a wildfire, Lindsay was a tornado whipping up the fire and steering it on her chaotic course. 

So when she married him, her reckless wildfire, she thought she could hide that side of herself. 

Until Fiona came along. 

Fiona was a young woman with pride carrying every step that left scorch marks in her wake, a woman with dreams and a fire in her eyes. She was dangerous and beautiful and god, Lindsay couldn't take her eyes off of her as if she was a moth drawn to the other girl's flame. 

It was distracting and it made Lindsay feel horribly guilty, her stomach twisting in knots that she would avoid Michael and Fiona alike. It took Michael cornering her, holding her with a soothing hand running through her hair and the other wrapped around her middle as Lindsay sobbed into his shoulder. 

It was a soft whisper, "Michael, I think I'm _bi_." 

He let out a soft chuckle, twirling Lindsay's beautiful blue hair around his fingers with care as not to pull it. 

"That's one less secret between us then, isn't it?" He released her locks to cup her face, pressing a gentle kiss to her nose and rest their foreheads together. "I'm proud of you, Lindsay." 


End file.
